I envisage hundreds, if not thousands, of little fingers attacking Dec 1st on their Advent Calendars this morning.
The countdown has officially started to the visit from the Big Guy in the Red Suit in just over three weeks, though merchandise and signs showing the number of Big Sleeps have been displayed for months.
Hubby and I love Christmas, not because we’ve got kids (we haven’t) or as an excuse to stuff ourselves silly with luxurious food (ie. Christmas pudding and mince pies).
It’s not the twinkling lights adorning the High Street (though they are lovely this year).
It’s not the prospect of carol singers knocking at your door (hardly on a private marina).
It’s not forthcoming snowy scenes and frosty mornings (we get them anyway).
It’s not the chance to visit and spend time with family (we’re too widespread).
It’s not the excitement of exchanging gifts (we have our £10 dash and that’s fun).
So if these are not reasons (for us) to enjoy Christmas, what are?
To be honest, it’s something I can’t really put my finger on.
Christmases Past saw us doing our Santa Run Christmas Eve, then coming home, closing the door, and shutting everyone out until Boxing Day.
Christmas Day was for Us (and the dog), the thought of not having to pander to anyone other than ourselves was the best gift.
Family Christmases are great though, the delight and wonder on younger kids faces make me hope the magic is still there for them in years to come. Everyone needs a little bit of magic, at any time of year actually, but Christmas is special even though there are minorities now trying to ‘ban it’ and restrict people following their faith in this godawful Political Correctness.
It wasn’t until several years ago that I realised reindeer were real. They had always been a magical and mythical creature to me, until I saw three in Boston (Lincs) market, munching straw in a stall on the High Street.
I got to touch one. I was in awe. It was truly Magic.